Carnegiea

Literary Magazine

Page 2 of 12

you’re my sunflower

By Lily Morales

The Smoker

By Tate Harper

I created this piece because I enjoy sketching people I don’t know or recognize, and I wanted to immortalize them through art. I also enjoy drawing pleasing symmetrical facial features, since it makes the art pleasing to look at.

Closure

By Elizabeth Young

I have days
Where I imagine how it would go.
You ask me if I’ve ever been in love.
Yes. Once. With you. When I was young. And Naïve.
When I didn’t know the difference between love and lust.
Want and Need.
When I didn’t know how it felt to actually be in love. I still don’t.
But I continue to try and create a new ending for your answer.
One that doesn’t end with me in tears-
Gasping for air.
As I finally feel what little part of my heart I still had leave me.
When I finally become numb.
So I finally ask you – Have you ever been in love?
And I don’t mean the drink yourself to pity love.
I don’t mean the stay up into 3 am love.
I don’t mean the moaning and thrashing love.
I mean the soul crushing love that makes you feel like you can’t breathe.
I mean the earth shattering love that leaves you aching for a relief when they’ve left you.
I mean the kind of love you’ve never felt before.
I want to know if you’ve ever healed instead of hurt.
Have you ever tried to change yourself for another person?
Tried to break your bones to fit in the mold they’ve built for you?
Have you ever seen the potential in a person before you’ve seen them for who they really are?
You have never felt your soul collapse on itself like you forced mine to.
You have never felt the ache of your own knife.
I try and create a different ending to our twisted Grimm fairytale-
But in the end I know
I am the unhappy ending
And you will continue to live-
Untouched by the pain you have created in people.
But god,
You have never felt love either.
That is what keeps me afloat.
That is what keeps me reading our story and expecting a different ending.
That is my closure.

i wanted to put the best and worst people I’ve met into something everyone can feel and can relate to. The emotions can in no way be put on to a sheet and feel the full effect but i feel as if i got somewhat close with this.

Summer’s Challenges

By Maggie Kropog

I knew before leaving Florida this summer that i needed to get a picture of the sunset, these are only a few of the many 5 am sunsets on the Gulf of Mexico.

Untitled

By Luis Esquer

Magical Tucson

By Evangeline Erickson

        Her entire body was on fire. Her muscles screamed with pain and her breathing was shallow. Abby took a drink of water and put her hands on her knees. She was hunched over, staring at the ground in a poor attempt to stop her head from spinning. She often asked herself why she ran at all.
Slowly, she lifted her head and took in her surroundings. The scenery never ceased to amaze her. Abby’s favorite place to run was a nature preserve on the west side of town. Locals referred to the preserve as “The Hill.” The entire trail was three miles long: one and a half miles up, one and a half miles down. Masses of people in athletic clothing could be seen on The Hill for miles on any given evening. It was easy to see why. The path was surrounded by cacti, creosote bushes, rock formations, and various desert animals. The wildlife proved to be an excellent distraction from aching muscles. The one and a half mile trip to the top was steep and arduous, but oddly satisfying. As she scanned the area, Abby smiled to herself. This was why she ran.

        From her view on the crest of The Hill, Abby could see the entire city. The freeway was lined with the glittering lights of cars. Downtown was especially illuminated; the skyscrapers appeared less severe from a distance. Even the airport seemed minuscule from where she stood. As the sun sank lower into the sky, her town parted with the rosy hue of the sunset and welcomed the navy oblivion of night. There was a light breeze and the leaves of the creosote rustled, causing the air to smell like rain. The saguaros–though they were stationary–resembled dancers, their arms twisting beneath the moon. Abby closed her eyes and mentally captured the image. She perched atop a small boulder, ignoring the pain in her calves and gazing at the stars. Andromeda, Pegasus, Sagittarius, and Ursa Minor were visible, among other groups of stars she couldn’t name. The constellations brought back memories of her runs with Gray. Gray Davenport had been Abby’s closest friend for as long as she could remember. He appreciated her love of running and nature and didn’t mind her frequent ramblings. There was an old observatory located at the peak of The Hill, where Abby and Gray would go to wind down after the difficult run up. The observatory, once white, was now a dusty, sun-bleached beige, its ladder rusted. The pair would scramble up the ancient rungs and look at the sky; Gray pointing out the name of each constellation, Abby attentively listening and absorbing the information. She could almost remember how his crooked smile and intelligent blue eyes looked in the moonlight. On special nights, they’d see a single celestial body streak across the sky.

        “Look, Gray! A shooting star!” she’d exclaim.

        “C’mon Abby, you know it’s just the visible path of a meteoroid entering the atmosphere,” he grinned, “but feel free to make a wish.”

        Abby wished for the soreness in her muscles to disappear. She wished she had more water. She wanted to wish away this feeling of nostalgia. But most of all, she wished Gray were with her. He’d moved away a year ago today.

reflection

By Casirina Ochoa-Lawrence

capturing the little beauties of life is what keeps me grounded. this is just one reminder that the world and life aren’t always so dark.

Nebulous Writing

By Rafael Grenier

Critique
Writing is inherently narcissistic
I’m begging for your attention
Like a drunk street performer
Or a three-year-old
But it’s dignified under the guise of art
No need to despise this wise guy
I’m a fool too, a jester
I might have lost you by now,
And kudos to you on that

For those still here, let’s see what else I can do
The flutter of a butterfly’s wings missed ever so slightly by a delayed camera shutter
Another flustered muttered phrase expressing regret and disappointment
“I just can’t catch it!”
Ether defeats the purpose
Therefore purpose defeats the ether
All I want is an ethereal image to claim as my own
A still shot of an insect going about its routine
I tempt fate
I want to capture and instant and prolong it indefinitely
That’s all I’ve ever wanted

Another check in for the more attentive
Maybe some congratulations will throw you off the scent
So here’s my two cents, I hope it makes sense
Bravo!
Hurrah!
The sarcasm is palpable and my double triple quadruple negatives of meaning and intent leave me too wondering where I started and where I’m going
This is exhibitionist self-gratification
And you’re still here, gulping it down
Skeptically, I hope

Okay, now that only the truly faithful are left
I’ll tell you a secret
That was all a cover
I’m afraid to say I’m proud of my work
I wrote this all quickly but I’ve relished every moment and I think it’s actually worth reading
I like myself more as a result
It’s such a toxic piece of writing
I want you to read this and think
“How clever!”
Or to begrudgingly enjoy what you see
I’m terrified of mockery
And of pity
So I’ve left this big hard shell to protect the crab meat within
I think it’s a delicacy, crab meat
I wouldn’t know, but one can speculate
Now I need to do a little more covering in case anyone just skipped to the end
But you’ll know what it really means

Scattered tattered remains of the battered population
Flattered by our own voice
Flattened by reality
Flatulent in the face of God
Tell me that’s not funny
I knew bathroom humor could still get you
No one is safe
Anyways, I want to say none of us are grown up
I’m still wetting the metaphorical bed
And now my critical voice is in your head
Misguided and irreversibly misled

What did the French author name his final book about fish?

Fin.

I like stream-of-consciousness pieces, so I wanted to make one of my own. I really do hope you enjoy reading this, it was a lot of fun to write.

Listen to the worms

By Andie Thornton

An embroidered cropped t shirt. 

This piece was made on a random spur of the moment thought, as most of my art is, and i went with it and its weirdness. 

I love this shirt especially because, one, it’s my first full finished embroidery piece, and two, the obscurity and strangeness of the quote will always be my favorite. 

To me this quote is about being weird and listening to yourself and giving into your unconventional interests, because without being a little weird, i think a person can be very boring. 

MEAT

By Roman Sherman

FADE IN
(Off white inter-title card with small TNR cap font zooms into focus reading “ AND NOW A BRIEF MESSAGE FROM PETA” )

BLACK, THEN CAMERA FOCUSES IN ON SCENE

WHITE NONDESCRIPT CUBICLE

UNNAMED MAN #1, Friendly but stern faced, dressed in a poorly fitting white button down shirt and casual black slacks, tensely stands in the center of the room, staring uncomfortably at camera

UM #1
(belting)
THIS COULD HAPPEN TO YOU!

RED, CAMERA FOCUSES ON SCENE

WHITE WALLED, SYMMETRICAL ROOM, no furniture except for a table with one chair. On the table rests a silver domed plate containing PORKY In the chair with rigid posture sits

MIKE, Mid 20’s, clothed in a red t-shirt and well fitting denim pants. Dead eyed but attractive

MIKE
(staring uncomfortably at the camera, saying all lines forced and robotically)
Golly gee, I am ready to dig into this juicy steak. At this point I am sure that there will be no repercussions for my decision to eat this meat.
MIKE looks at chrome dome on table and reaches to grasp handle. Mike lifts dome then revealing…

PORKY, mid 1’s beefsteak, dressed in only herbs and a mild vinaigrette. PORKY sits on white plate. Two googly eyes and paper mouth cut out flush out PORKY’s features. When PORKY speaks, the plate gyrates signalling consciousness.

MIKE
Yup siree I am redeee for some FOOD
MIKE lifts fork and steak knife aggressively and forced

PORKY
(Speaking in robust brooklin vernacular)
WHOO YOU THINK YOU BOUT TO COP A PIECE OF MEE?

MIKE
(Vocal intonation shifts to very serious and quiet)
Yes… um sorry do I know you?

PORKY
Heya pal its me porky the beefsteak, the toughest beefsteak in the tri-burrough area. Iah came here tonite to tell you a bit about a the way things work around here

MIKE
(tenor and meek)
I’m sorry this is not in the script… what’s happening guys

PORKY
Whoah that’s not how it works around here buddy you look at me when youre talking and you speak when you’re spoken too.

MIKE
No this is definitely not on the script (pulls out a script) you see it says that I eat the steak here and then…(loses train of thought) what is this some joke or something like I just wanted…

PORKY
Hey mothafucka does it look like I’m jokin heah?

MIKE
No I’m not…

PORKY
I said DOES IT LOOK LIKE IM MOTHERFUCKIN JOKIN YA BITCH ASS MADERFUKKA?!
(gun appears on table)

MIKE
Ok guys this is enough I get it

PORKY
STOP INTERRUPTING ME YOU LITTLE RAT BASTARD
(Beefsteak starts vibrating voraciously)

MIKE
OK. let’s just say this was actually a part of the script. Where does it go from here? Like why in the name of christ would there be a vibrating beefsteak swearing with a New York accent?? Beefsteaks don’t even have arms like why is this gun even relevant in this situation?? How does this make any sense at all??
CAMERA TURNS AWAY FROM SCENE FOR SEVERAL SECONDS, WHEN IT TURNS BACK, PORKY IS MOUNTED ON THE FACE OF A HAIRY MUSCULAR MAN WEARING A TYPICAL 1960’s GANGSTER SUIT

PORKY
(Throbbing)
WHO DOESN’T HAVE ARMS NOW YOU LITTLE
CRAKAH ASS MOFUKAH

PORKY grabs MIKE forcefully and places him in a headlock between his pronounced arm muscles.
YOU STILL THINK THIS IS SOME FUCKIN JOKE??
PORKY grabs and cocks gun and places it against MIKE’s shaking head
YOU STILL FIND THIS FUNNY HUH???

MIKE
This guy is seriously hurting me. Wait holy shit is that gun real?? What the fuck is this?? GET ME OUT OF HERE THIS IS NOT FUNNY GUYS!!!

PORKY
No you’re gonna open your little bitch ears and listen to me! You thought you could just come in here with your prissy ass button up and take a bite out of me? PORKY? And even after I tell you who I am you don’t give me respect. I got connections. Mi familia is the biggest meat based crime syndicate in all of Brooklyn. We know what shit you’re up to.

MIKE
I have no idea what you’re talking about just please put the gun down and we can talk about it!! Please!

PORKY
(pushing Mike further against the wall)
I know what you ate for breakfast Mike. Sausage links. Motherfucking sausage links. D’you know what percent beef those links are? God damn 20%!! That was my little nephew Vinnie in there! I’ll never see his chubby face again. And we don’t forget shit like that in our family!
(places gun on MIKES forhead)

MIKE
(whimpering)
No please!! Whoever you are!! I’ll give you anything just let me go!!

PORKY
ITS TOO LATE FOR THAT
A single gunshot is heard
CUT TO MIKES DEAD BODY WITH BLOOD POOLING OUT OF HEAD SPELLING “MEAT KILLS”
CAMERA FADES TO WHITE

WHITE NONDESCRIPT CUBICLE

UNM #1
Beef is high in bad cholesterol and calories making it the #1 cause of death among US citizens. Voting with your pocketbook is the only way to prolong your life and save your family from a hell of cardiovascular disease. Support PETA and stop eating meat today.

Page 2 of 12

Carnegiea Magazine